


Raining Halflings

by gvarchangel



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 10:29:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21242624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gvarchangel/pseuds/gvarchangel
Summary: This was our second big and bad boss fight of the campaign, and served as one of the last sessions we had with the original party. Fyrie was a nightmare to bring down, but it was a fun fight. And our bard proved that what he lacked in combat prowess, he made up for with creativity: our DM didn't even think about how much damage the platform was taking until he brought it up. Good times.





	Raining Halflings

After all of the headaches she had tolerated, Fyrie was done being polite with this damned Vault. The last three months had been a miserable parade on nuisances: if it wasn't the Azer waging a guerrilla war to free her work force, it was the Dragonborn going on about her lack of rewards. She was lucky her pet lizards were still alive after wasting two months to simply find the Vault's door. And if that wasn't enough, those adventurers that insisted on being a thorn in her side were still unaccounted for. She quietly hoped capturing their paladin had convinced them to run, but had her reservations. They'd passed up too many opportunities to leave with their tails between their legs to do so now.

But that would soon all be in the past. That Vault was coming open today, one way or another. Mama had gathered her two best shamans to work their magic, trying to destroy the wall the Vault was mounted into. If the lock wouldn't come open, it would just have to be removed. There was a chance the volcano would erupt from the disturbance, but she didn't pay the threat much heed. All it would do is kill a few more of these useless lizards. The fire giant and her Warden could endure the heat of magma without flinching.

The shamans promised to be done within the hour. This only made her more impatient as she paced, waiting for the fabled power to be in her hands. The catwalk under her shook with each thunderous step. The other lizards she brought for security all gripped their weapons nervously. The Vault hid something powerful, but there was no way to know if that something would be friendly. Combined with the fear of falling thirty meters to the bottom of the great room, the tiny creatures had a right to be worried. But Fyrie didn't care. She was ready to be done with Droskar's Crag, and for the constant headaches to be worth something.

The first sign of trouble was a tame one. A shaman stumbled, then suddenly collapsed. There were no wounds or sounds to indicate what happened. It seemed he'd simply passed out in the middle of his spell. The second caster stopped working as well, but for more obvious reasons. A swarm of ravens at least twelve strong had descended from a darkened corner of the room and were turning him into a pin cushion. He was still alive, but the beaks going for his eyes distracted him from his magic.

And then there was a scream on the opposite side of the room. Turning towards it, everyone saw a guard being pulled from the catwalk by a dagger in his leg. As he fell, they got a brief glance at a halfling suspended beneath the catwalk, his raven mask slightly glowing in the shadows. Two of them reached for their spears, one actually throwing his, but their target was gone in a blink.

“Vive la revolution!” came a shout at another door. A half-dozen Azer poured from it with axes, maces, and fists. A different halfling was in the thick of them, this one supported by a thin elf with a bow. This group swarmed the nearest guard and smashed him to pieces before he could draw his spear.

The final entrance of the catwalk held a similar sight. Only three of the flaming dwarves were here, but they did not need numbers. Leading them was the elven paladin Fyrie had captured the previous day, armed with a crimson-glowing war hammer. This group did not even reach their first target before a metal candelabra struck his head and knocked him from the platform. A Kenku in the back was already fishing in his bag for more ammunition to launch.

The defenders were startled by the sudden assault, but formed a passable defense quickly. Lizard archers found their bows and launched a salvo at the most pressing targets they could target. The ones near the eastern door fired at the paladin with every arrow they could reach. Metal struck metal, but nothing hit the elf behind the armor. Those at the west fired on the mass of flaming creatures trying to rush in. At least one fell, but the mob paid no heed to the lost comrade. They focused on the foot soldiers in their way, the lizards armed with spears and sharp teeth. That fight resembled a bar brawl as the Azer, fueled by a thirst for vengeance, competed to kill the ones who had tried to enslave them.

As the lizards bit and the Azer struck, the adventurers made themselves known. Earwen and her magic hammer tore the front guards into burning pieces. The illustrious bard known as Flynn Riverfellow supported his brawling Azer as best he could with healing and inspiring magic, keeping them on their feet longer than their targets. Swif “Collateral Damage” Asterion made short work of the archers in range by pelting them with more of the random objects in his pack. The wizard proved that ink bottles could be very terrifying if magically catapulted at the speed of sound.

Caiphyra tried to reach a second suspended platform for a better vantage point... and missed the jump. Those close enough to listen heard something shouted in elven as she fell, but no crash into the bottom. She was quick enough with Feather Fall to keep herself from splattering into the stone below. Corvo had better luck: more concerned with the threats they could see, the center guards did not notice the shadow moving under their catwalk. Only when the first one fell with a dagger through the eye did they realize their mistake. The halfling barely came up to their waists, but he did not yield to the two guards before him.

Fyrie's impatient annoyance quickly became anger. How dare these insolent creatures interfere again? But a part of her smiled at the opportunity. She could finally crush her opposition. And she did so quite literally, stepping on two of the Azer and one of her own men. Their spears and axes poked at her feet, but the irritation was a small price to pay to hear her enemies die beneath her heel. She backhanded at the center of the nearest mob, but these were able to dive out of the way. Not once did she think to check on her shamans, who were still unconscious or under attack from ravens. Nor did she think that her precious Warden was missing.

No longer surprised, the lizards finally organized themselves enough to attack effectively. Instead of wasting time on the armored elf, they focused on the poorly armed Azer and Kenku still trying to charge from the eastern door. Here, they were finally able to draw blood. The final pair of archers focused their arrows at the halfling healer, unfortunately only hitting the Azer in their way. The center guards decided they did not need help to kill the small rogue, which proved to be a mistake. They were used to fighting creatures their height, and had trouble landing a hit on the thief.

The siege forces adapted as quick as they could. Earwen waded through her Azer party to Swif, smashing one of his attackers into the catwalk. The shield on her back saved them both from impalement by flying spears. The bird, bloodied and panicked, created a small earthquake that damaged their metal path and another guard while miraculously not killing his allies. Corvo proved himself to be just as much a knife fighter as a thief, taking on his attackers with a dagger in each hand. The wounds he inflicted weren't enough to kill, but neither were their strikes. Flynn surprised even himself by somehow healing his companions faster under the barrage of arrows. And Caiphyra, using chains hanging from the very catwalk she fell from, finally made it back into the fray.

Wounded and very angry, the Azer only pushed harder against their would-be rulers. They were a wave of fire washing across the battlefield, engulfing the foes stupid enough to not retreat. The ones without weapons actually seemed to be doing better than their armed companions, their burning fists crashing into lizard skulls with thick cracks. Their short legs did not carry them quickly, but they left nothing alive in their path.

As her hired help fell, Fyrie only became more angry. She saw how dreadfully a pair of them were struggling against the lone halfling, and let her rage strengthen her magic. A steam of fire erupted from her hand at the trio. Corvo avoided death by putting the guards between himself and the spell, but still endured no small amount of injury. The giant stomped at the Azer again, only getting one beneath her foot this time. Now she missed her automaton assistant, but did not stop to wonder why he was not helping her.

The lizards became desperate, and the attackers became bold. Caiphyra wasted no time using her bow to kill the remaining archers with magic arrows. Swif and Earwen pressed forward as one, obliterating everything in their path with miniature tornadoes and the flaming war hammer. Corvo, wounded and very angry, decided the giant's ankles weren't a good enough target for him. His spider powers and daggers helped him scale her armor quickly and without notice. Flynn kept the attacking Azer as intact as he could, but knew he was going to run out of magic soon. His eyes looked everywhere to find some kind of advantage they could use to fell the giant. The dwarves rushed her with the intent to cut her ankles off before reaching her eyes.

Fyrie was not going down without a fight, regardless of how useless her guards proved to be. Putting no small amount of magic behind it, she stomped as hard as she could into the catwalk. The platform buckled and several of the attackers went flying. Only two were unfortunate enough to fall to the stone below.

Just as Flynn had an idea, Corvo had his own. The thief leapt from the giant's shoulder and onto her neck, daggers digging into the skin. Here the flesh was thin enough to draw blood. She yelled and swatted at the injury without realizing what caused it. But much like a real bug, the halfling did not sit still long enough to be smashed.

“Hit the platform, everyone!” Flynn shouted over the pandemonium. While his rapier could do little to the metal infrastructure, his bardic magic could push the others to do more. “Bring it down!”

Half of the Azer got the message, the others too blind in their attack to listen. Heating their metal weapons, they began to bludgeon the catwalk with marvelous efficiency. Earwen took advantage of her hammer's magical fire to work on the central section. Earthquake spells could do more than endanger the party, as Swif proved by sending the platform into a shaking fit. Caiphyra kept the giant preoccupied with arrows at her face. And Corvo did the same, though he preferred using his blades across her neck.

Fyrie felt the heat beneath her feet and decided to focus on the Azer again. She tried to stomp and swat at them, but could not hit any. The voice, the amazingly irritating voice of Flynn Riverfellow was in her mind, disrupting her thoughts. If she could tone it out, she would show them what a real sorcerer could do.

The halfling on her neck did not appreciate being forgotten. Instead of cutting at her with weapons, he went with something psychological. He scrambled up to her eye and pulled a half-melted trophy from his pack. What used to be an armored automaton's head, terrifying with its dark ruby eyes, was now partially dissolved from acid and crudely cut from its body with a short sword.

“This yours, bitch?!” Corvo shouted, holding it before her massive pupil. It did not take long for Fyrie to recognize the severed head of her beloved Warden. Especially when he slammed it into her eye.

What was left of the giant's composure was gone instantly. She roared at the insolent fools that dared try to defy her, the ones that took her beloved servant from her. Her hands raced towards the thief on her face with every intention to feel his life crushed between her fingers.

Corvo somehow kept a hold on his trophy while disappearing into her hair. “She's distracted! Get everyone back!” he shouted, ducking past another massive fingernail.

“Hang on to something!” Flynn replied as he he gave his companions one last magical boost. The others put it to use, slamming the platform with everything they had.

The thief, spotting the chaos below, quickly realized the plan and scrambled to the top of Fyrie's head.

Swif and Earwen delivered the final blows, combining a massive earthquake with an impressive hammer strike into the metal before them. Between this, the damage the Azer had already managed, and the giant's panicked stomping, the platform broke spectacularly. The central section, holding three Azer, Flynn, and the giant, began to fall to the stone below.

Flynn quickly cast Feather Fall on himself and the Azer. Fyrie went down hard and fast, Corvo barely above her before the bard's magic caught him. The quintet of short creatures began to float down at a safe pace and earned a perfect view of their foe crashing into the ground back first. Even for something almost six meters tall, that fall hurt.

But she was still alive. Obviously stunned, just not dead. She glared up at them as they drifted down gently, trying to get control of herself again so she could smite them with magic. The only thing stopping her now were the dancing stars in her brain.

The bard smiled at his companion, pulling his rapier from his hip. “Right eye or left?”

“Left,” Corvo said without hesitation. A pair of daggers almost appeared in his hands, sharp and angled for the giant below. “Say when.”

The halflings repositioned themselves as they floated down, angling like divers into a lake. Flynn snapped his fingers, canceling their spell roughly twenty feet above their target.

As the blades rushed towards her eyes, Fyrie could only manage a single thought. “I'm about to be killed... by midgets.”

Corvo and Flynn pierced the eyes blades first, injuring themselves slightly as they crashed into her skull. The giant died almost instantly, her body seizing twice as it realized her brain was no longer working. Caiphyra was actually concerned about her companions when they didn't immediately reappear, but climbing out of a creature's eye socket was no small task. They both clumsily made their way out a few moments later, gasping for air.

Corvo had hoped the giant's eye fluid would help soothe his fresh burns, but the effect was both the opposite and gross. Flynn snapped his fingers, cleaning them both instantly while he laughed out of exhaustion. The Azer that fell with them had already landed safely and offered Corvo a bottle. He chugged it without question, not caring if it was alcohol or a healing potion: either would help with his stinging skin. As it turned out, the mead did make it bearable.

A sickening crash made the group jump. The shaman that slept through the fight woke up and tired to run. Caiphyra kicked him off the platform without ceremony. The other caster, the one covered in dozens of beak bites and claw marks, surrendered quickly to Earwen.

“You guys can climb back up with that chain,” the elven archer shouted, pointing to the same one she used after she fell.

Flynn laughed, shaking his head. “If only Feather Fall worked both ways, eh?”

Corvo barely noticed the comment. He was busy trying to get the fire giant's gold ring off of her hand. It was literally big enough to work as a belt for him, and he had no intention of leaving behind such loot.


End file.
